


Cold Rain on Black Seas

by Bluerain1984



Series: Strangers in a Strange Land [8]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: F/M, He'd die for them, Internalized Homophobia, Joseph has a lot of damn issues, Joseph loves his kids, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Making Out, Past Child Abuse, Past Infidelity, Past Relationship(s), Past underaged drinking, Self-Hatred, Snippets of fluff mixed with lots of angst, but not what you're thinking, mostly self-pity, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11768052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerain1984/pseuds/Bluerain1984
Summary: 'Upon opening his front door, his antithesis stood before him. Robert was his opposite as well, but he and Damien called to one another, completed each other. With his bright pastels, healthy pallor, sky colored eyes, blond hair, and a cheerful smile, Joseph was all the things Damien despised. And yet, when he was honest, he envied him, too. People seemed to like Joseph from the moment they met him, while Damien was considered ‘weird’ and ‘freaky’. And while Damien did love being the ‘other’ of the Gothic way, he wouldn’t deny that he did wish he could come across as inviting as his neighbor. But all of Joseph’s charm could not change the fact that he was… rather insufferable at times, too, especially as Damien was privy to secrets from Mary. Oft had he wondered why his bosom friend, once a wild hell-cat, had settled for this paragon of conservatism.“Sorry to bother you! I hope this isn’t a bad time.”'





	Cold Rain on Black Seas

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I apologize for people who are here for Damien and Robert only; there is a massive portion that is Joseph centric. If you prefer him as a stock villain, you may skip. But I would rather you read the story in total. See you all below.

“If you like animals so much, why don’t you have a pet?” Robert asked.

Damien placed the final, clean plate within the hutch, shutting the glass door that allowed him to display the delicate, hand painted dishes that he’d purchased for far too much money (though entirely worth it in his mind, given they were the same style, and production, as Victorian china). This was their eighth dinner together, and thus far, all signs showed it would become a regular occurrence. He loved having another person to cook for, especially on nights when Lucien was too deep in adolescent melancholy, or off to pursue his own nightly endeavors. Eating alone allowed for reflection and deep contemplation, but it left one rather… earnest for companionship. With Robert now joining him, staying home seemed less daunting. His dearest even seemed to be warming up to his vegetarian cuisine. At least he seemed to appreciate the marinated tofu steak that was served this evening.

Damien looked over his shoulder at Robert, and answered, “Lucien is terribly allergic to most domestic house pets. I wouldn’t fathom endangering his health due to my selfish whims.”

“But you’ll cuddle Betsy till the cows come home,” Robert quipped, leaning back in the dining-chair.

“Chair down, please, Robert. That is artisan crafted furniture.”

“Don’t change the subject: you give up a lot for your kid, Dames.”

“It’s natural,” Damien told him. “He is the one thing I do not regret from the body that fate and genetics cruelly miscalculated. I would give him anything, and sacrifice infinitely more, for his safety and happiness.”

“Is that why you let him act like a little punk?” Robert lowered the chair down, and stood up. Damien frowned at his lover.

“Firstly, I ask that you do not criticize how I am raising my son. Secondly, I do not encourage him to commit crimes or acts of vandalism. But I also will not stifle his desire to explore his identity and whom he wishes to be.” Damien had endured that sort of restriction until he had gone to college, where he was able to begin living the life he knew he’d always wished for. “I thought you liked Lucien.”

“Kid’s a smart-ass,” Robert said. The comment was followed by a sly smile. “Yeah, I like him. He’s still a decent kid when he’s not tryin’ to be a brat or ‘edgy’.”

“He will find his niche,” Damien assured the older man. “And until then, I shall support him as best I can, and ensure that if he does stray too far into felonious activity, there will be consequences.”

“Gonna take away his eye-liner and jewelry?” Damien gave Robert a reproachful look at that remark, and it made the other man look away, though he did snicker.

With the dining room clean, Damien stepped to Robert’s side, and took his hand. “We have dined, dearest, but the night is young yet. What shall we do to occupy ourselves?”

Robert’s eyes moved over Damien quickly while his left eyebrow rose. Damien had been strategic in his choice of dress. A vest, adorned in black velvet brocade, over a shite shirt, and loosened black cravat at his collar. These were combined with onyx trousers and a pair of boots that added an inch to his stature through a heel. True, Robert had accepted Damien’s more ‘mundane’ half, but he knew the man still took pleasure in his usual Gothic attire. The additional height from the boots also helped Damien form a more confident, ‘leading’ frame of mind. He would need it for what he had planned tonight.

Damien gave Robert his most charming smile. “We seem to be thinking similarly; however, before we get too caught up in one another, I have something important to discuss.”

Robert’s eager expression fell and he looked put out. “Can’t we just get to the fuckin’?”

“Believe me, my dearest,” Damien said, reaching to stroke his fingers against Robert’s rough stubble. “I yearn for you as much as you do for me.”

“Wanna bet on that?”

“But we have something we must negotiate, and the sooner we do, the sooner we are able to take delight in one another again.” Damien guided his lover to the library, where he motioned for Robert to sit on the small sofa that occupied one wall of the room, while he unlocked a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a few papers. “I did some extensive research. I even asked a few online forums questions.” He brought the papers to Robert, and watched his lover look through it. After two pages into the long contract, Robert grumbled.

“I don’t see the point of this, babe.” He said as he set the papers down. “Bite me, spank my ass some, or tie me down; add some bossiness with that, I’m good. You don’t have to go into legal shit.”

“The point is that I wish to settle on limits, Robert! And I know none of yours, as you know none of mine. There are plays and actions I am willing to do with you, as you like when I exert control. But there are some things I refuse to do to my partner, even for the sake of their pleasure. I also want to be able to explore ‘after care,’ which I know we have not done, and I want to remedy that.” Damien retrieved the contract, sat beside Robert, and handed the older man the papers. “Please. I want to know what you won’t do. I want us to establish ‘safe words.’ I want to give you the best.”

Robert looked from Damien’s face to the papers, then let out a hard-put groan as he took the contract back. He seemed to be skimming it, but at least he was considering it. Eventually he pointed to page five. “I’m with you on the shit and piss stuff. Ain’t nothin’ about that sexy to me.”

“Quite,” Damien said. He did not judge those who found such ‘kinks’ appealing, and that was all well and good for them. But he was relieved that he and Robert were of like minds on it.

Robert read on a bit, and on the final page, he looked devastated. “No knives?!”

“Carving is for wood, not for flesh, dearest.”

“Jeez, buzz kill, babe.”

Damien rolled his eyes. However, he refused to back down. “I won’t cut you with a blade. I find it barbaric.”

Robert made an exceedingly dramatic sigh. “Guess relationships are compromise, and all that shit. Fine.”

“Thank you, my dearest,” Damien said before taking the papers. “I’ll make notes on these points. Now, for our safe words.”

“Never had a Dom use a safe word,” Robert said as Damien stood to cross to the desk for a pen.

“I’m not used to this type of sexual discourse,” Damien said. “And I do this for you as well as myself. I know consent is implicit for you, and without a safe word for us both, I will not give consent.”

Robert crossed his legs. “Fine.”

Damien smiled again. “Lovely. My word is Processor. What is yours?”

Robert’s gaze rose to the ceiling. “Um… Cryptid. That work?”

“That is satisfactory,” Damien said, writing it down before setting both pen and papers aside. “Are we agreed on these terms, dearest?”

“Yeah,” Robert answered. “If it’s what you want.”

“It is what we need,” Damien clarified. He locked the contract away, then joined Robert again. However, rather than taking the seat beside him, he climbed onto Robert’s lap, and hooked his arms over the man’s shoulders. “Now. I hope your mood hasn’t soured so that we cannot start treading the waters of our new dynamic?”

Robert’s hands went to Damien’s waist, and his smile returned to his mouth, too. “I could get back to that kinda mood, sweetheart.”

“Very good,” Damien cooed softly before leaning close to place a soft kiss to his dearest’s lips. Robert met the kiss, and deepened it with a swipe of his deft tongue. Damien allowed its invasion before he drew Robert’s bottom lip up and bit into it. Robert moaned, and, grip firm on Damien’s hips, stretched out along the sofa. Damien moved with him until they lay flush together, kisses growing fervent and more heated as time passed.

Before they were able to progress further, however, Damien heard an infuriatingly familiar ringtone. Of all the moments! He attempted to extricate himself from his lover’s arms, but met with resistance.

“You really gonna get that?” Robert asked.

“It could be an emergency,” Damien answered as he maneuvered back, until he was able to sit up and fished his phone from his trousers. He looked at the number and…  What the deuce was he calling about? Damien pressed the receive icon, and said, “Hello?”

“Damien,” Joseph Christiansen’s voice chimed through. “Sorry to bother you right now, but are you home? I saw your car parked out here, but I tried knocking, and no one seems to be answering.”

“Ah, no, I didn’t hear you. One moment,” Damien hung up, and ran one hand through his long locks.

“…Bad news?”

“I’m not sure, dearest,” Damien said. “Wait here. I will be swift with removing this interruption.” He climbed off of the sofa, away from Robert’s alluring presence, and hurried to the front entry of the house.

Upon opening his front door, his antithesis stood before him. Robert was his opposite as well, but he and Damien called to one another, completed each other. With his bright pastels, healthy pallor, sky colored eyes, blond hair, and a cheerful smile, Joseph was all the things Damien despised. And yet, when he was honest, he envied him, too. People seemed to like Joseph from the moment they met him, while Damien was considered ‘weird’ and ‘freaky’. And while Damien did love being the ‘other’ of the Gothic way, he wouldn’t deny that he did wish he could come across as inviting as his neighbor. But all of Joseph’s charm could not change the fact that he was… rather insufferable at times, too, especially as Damien was privy to secrets from Mary. Oft had he wondered why his bosom friend, once a wild hell-cat, had settled for this paragon of conservatism.

“Sorry to bother you! I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

Damien had no chance to answer, as a dark hand and a leather clad arm moved around Damien’s shoulders to hold onto him. Robert, appearing with no warning, said bluntly, “It is. What d’you want?” His tone was dark, a bit on the defensive. Damien had never heard him sound like this.

“Oh! My goodness. I didn’t know you two… associated,” Joseph said, a hand going up behind his neck in a display of discomfiture. “I won’t take up a lot of your time: and this saves me a trip to Robert’s house! I wanted to ask if you could bring something to next week’s big party.”

Damien asked, “Was it necessary to call me down for that? Mary would have asked me tomorrow at the shelter.”

“I know,” Joseph said, voice going a touch sing-song, “But sometimes my honey-bun is forgetful. Especially when she’s gotten into a good Red…”

Damien felt Robert’s grip tighten. He didn’t fight against it, but he was growing more concerned for his lover. And more vexed by his neighbor.

“SO!” Joseph interjected, clapping his hands. “What can you fellas bring?”

“Is it BYOB?” Robert asked.

“If you don’t want to enjoy my crisp and refreshing Summer Punch.”

“BYOB, got it,” Robert grunted.

Damien glanced back at his lover, then turned his attention back to Joseph. “I’ll bring greens and vegetation for salads.”

“Perfect!” Joseph cheered. “See you guys around the neigh—”

Robert used his other arm to slam the door in Joseph’s face.

“Dearest!” Damien scolded him, “He can be a bit much, but don’t be rude!”

“He pisses me off,” Robert said before he withdrew his arm. “I’m not in much of a ‘fun time’ mood now, sweetheart.”

Damien’s heart sank a little in his breast. He cast his eyes downward. “I understand, dearest.” He should never have answered that phone call. Perhaps he would begin placing it on silent when they were together? But then, if something happened while Lucien was out, how would Damien know? His thoughts were halted by Robert’s hand coming to his cheek, then moving to comb through his hair.

“Hey. S’not your fault, baby,” he assured Damien. “I can still stay over, right?”

Damien’s mouth curled in a slight grimace. “I would prefer it if you did.”

“Thanks, baby,” Robert leaned in and pressed his mouth against Damien’s brow. Damien reached to link his hand into Robert’s, intent to lead him up the stair for a cuddle. It was not the outcome he had wished for with his dearest one, but at the least they would be together for the eve.

* * *

 

It wasn’t like it was a lie. Joseph _had_ been out, asking the other families about next week, and liked to confirm when guests could bring things for a shin-dig. And it was handy that both men were at the same house for the confirmation. But… God, he’d hoped it wasn’t true. Or that maybe it was just a one-time thing. But it was true. Damien Bloodmarch was dating Robert Small.

 _It’s none of my business_ , he told himself. It really wasn’t either. Let his neighbors do what they wanted, as long as it didn’t do anything to disrupt the relative peace of the cul-de-sac, what was it that the owners of the gloomiest and run-down houses were a thing? He had other important things to consider, like arranging for a Summer Tutor for his kids. They’d had their vacation time; it was best to get them a refresher before school started at the end of next month. Maybe Hugo would agree to it? It’d be convenient, that was for sure! And he had a water-park field trip for the Youth Group planned in two weeks, and seven of his youths hadn’t turned in their permission slips. He’d have to talk to their parents about that.

Joseph continued to list off things he needed to do in his head while he entered his house and locked it up. He went into the living room to check the time on the big clock. Ah. Perfect. An hour and thirty minutes before his wife went out on her ‘nightly prowls’. He had just enough time to get the kids to bed. He went through the house, calling for his little clan.

“Chris? Christian, Christina, Crish? Bedtime, little ducks!” He found Chris playing some knight and sorcery video game (was it League of Skybound Warriors? He couldn’t keep track anymore). “Chris,” he said, “Let’s wrap it up, pal. You’ve got to go to bed.”

“Whatever,” his eldest mumbled before hitting some buttons on his controller and shutting off the console.

Joseph retrieved their remote to turn off the T.V. He set that down, and went to Chris to ruffle his son’s hair. “Thank you, pal. Now head upstairs.”

“Night,” Chris mumbled as he fixed his hair with his fingers and ducked away. As Joseph watched him leave, he counted his blessings. His oldest son had his mother’s attitude, but at least he did as he was told. Now, to find his other offspring. He searched a bit before heading into the basement. The lights were off. He could hear the soft rattling of their water heater. He took two steps down, and heard soft, slow singing.

“London bridge is falling down…falling down… falling down… London Bridge is falling down…My…Fair…Lady.”

“Kids,” he called, “What’d I say about that shtick? It’s time for bed.”

“Now I lay me down to sleep,” said the dual voices from the darkness, “Pray The Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, then He I pray my soul to take.”

“Kids, that’s not what I taught you that for. I’m going to count to three and if you don’t get up here by the time I’m done, I won’t let you watch T.V. tomorrow. One. Two…” As he counted, he held his hands up. He knew they could see him in the light that illuminated him at the top of the stairs. Before he reached the third numeral, his twins appeared from the inkiness of the basement floor. They walked up in tandem.

“Thank you,” he said, turning and letting them finish their ascension. He locked up the basement again, and said, “I’ll be up later to tuck you both in.”

“Goodnight, Father,” they said in unison before they left the room.

Only one left, he thought. He went on upstairs to check the least likely room: the nursery. Sure enough, Crish was not in the playpen. He should have been used to this. He left the room and started a methodical search for his toddler. Under each sink. In every cabinet (low and high), and even back down to the basement. On his third trip to the rec room, he found Crish in the small closet, next to his tackle box and an old record player.

“There you are, scamp,” he said as he picked up his youngest and carried the toddler to the nursery. After a quick bath, a fresh diaper, and clean jammies, Crish was laid down for bed in the crib. Joseph turned the mobile on, and let his little mischief maker go on to sleep. He checked in on Chris, who was playing on a hand-held game.

“What’d I say, buddy?” he asked.

“I’m in bed,” Chris replied.

“Fine,” Joseph, “But just a little. Then I want that off, and you asleep.”

“‘Kay.”

“Love you, Champ.”

“Yeah.” Well, it was something, at least.

Joseph shut Chris’s door, and went to tuck Christian in. They had only recently given Christian and Christina separate rooms, and so far, Christian was doing fine. He was already half asleep when Joseph tiptoed in to adjust the boy’s sheets and make sure his lights were off. He knelt by the boy’s bed, and pet at his hair a bit. “Goodnight, little guy,” he said softly. “I love you.” He got no response from the tired child, but that was fine. Christian was fearless, and smart as a whip. His solitary social skills needed some work, though, as Christian was just too quiet and withdrawn without Christina around to pull off their creepy-twin thing. Speaking of Christina…

“Daddy!” he left one twin’s side to go across the hall for the other. He opened the door up into the still very newly decorated, pink and white unicorn themed space.

“Princess, don’t scream. Everyone’s going to bed now,” he said, closing the door. He went, and sat on the edge of his daughter’s new bed.

“Check my closet,” she begged him. When she’d shared a room with Christian, she never had such fears. But after her initial excitement at getting her own room wore off, she seemed to develop a belief that something lurked inside her closet. Joseph knew this was normal for most kids, yet, still… At least he knew he could assuage her fears.

He smiled at his daughter and said, “All right, but I need you to come with me. Get your flashlight.” Christina crawled near her bed-side table and pulled out a pink and purple flashlight from its drawer. He helped her turn it on, then he picked her up, held her against his hip with one arm, and carried her to the closet.

“If there are any monsters or demons or nasties in here,” he said in a slightly dramatic voice, “You’d better run!” He opened the closet door quickly with one arm Christina’s legs. “Shine your light, Princess!”

The little girl flicked her flashlight’s beam through the closet while Joseph moved her clothes aside on the rack. “Shine it up,” he told her. She raised the light to get the upper shelves, and he reached to move aside some of the boxes containing a few of her extra toys. “Now down.” The light swooshed to the floor, over Mary-Janes, sneakers, and a pair of ballet slippers.

Joseph turned to look in Christina's baby-blue eyes. “I don’t see anything. Do you?”

She shook her head.

“Then there’s no monsters,” he told her. He used a foot to shut her closet, and took her back to bed. As he put her blanket up over her chest, Christina reached for his hand.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Sing to me? Please?”

He sighed. When she asked that nicely, how could he say no? He took her small hand in both of his bigger ones, and sang:

_“Sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber sleeping, I my loved ones' watch am keeping, all through the night. Angels watching, e'er around thee, all through the night. Midnight slumber close surround thee, all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber sleeping, I my loved ones' watch am keeping, all through the night…”_

He never had to go through more than two verses before Christina was fast asleep. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on her rosy cheek. “Goodnight, Princess. I love you.” He glanced over to his daughter’s alarm clock.

Right on time. He exited the room as quietly as possible, and as he shut the door, his own bedroom’s door opened up. Mary started walking through the hall toward him.

“The spawn asleep?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said aloud, with the ‘no thanks to you’ hanging unspoken but as weighty nonetheless.

“Great,” she said, going past him. “You know where I’ll be.”

“Of course,” he muttered, before saying bitterly, “Goodnight, honey-bunch.”

“Whatever.”

He stayed in the hallway, listening as his wife went downstairs, and shortly out the door. At least she had the wherewithal to leave her keys so she wouldn’t be driving around once she’d hit her drunken stupor.

However, with his children now asleep in their beds and Mary out of the house, Joseph was again alone with his thoughts. Instead of going to his room to get ready for bed, himself, he turned and went back down the stairs, all the way to the rec room. He didn’t have his blender or his mixes at the house, right now, but at least he had a few other things. He grabbed his ‘Best of Jimmy Buffet’ CD and put it into the stereo, turning the volume low enough that it wouldn’t disturb his kids. Then, he dropped onto the pull-out, and ran a hand over his face.

Lord in Heaven, he shouldn’t feel his guts twisting up, his chest getting tight and ready collapse. He shouldn’t give a single thought to Damien and Robert. They were two pees in a broody, cloudy pod, so why should he even want to poke his nose into their business? Because in spite of what he knew was right and good, even with all the things he had to take care of in his life, more important things like his job and his responsibilities and his kids, he still _**hated**_ it! Mary had been so pleased, so ‘giddy,’ when she had told him about the couple the other morning. She acted as if this had been her plan, instead of some strange accident, arranged by the powers that be to either tempt him or else show him what he was not allowed to have.

Joseph did not condemn people who lived alternative lifestyles. And he wasn’t homophobic, or transphobic, with all the diverse people who attended his church and whom he had befriended in the PTA and the cul-de-sac. But… constantly he felt this odd dichotomy. Everyone else could do what made them happy, and he would support them, but if he indulged in it? He both felt revulsion at the idea and also a deep, burning, painful urge to do the same, and envy that he couldn’t. He wanted to fulfill what was expected of him, but he also wanted to throw it away and to Hell with the consequences of that.

It was a contradiction he’d lived with all his life. His father had instilled in him a sense of duty. _‘Be an upright, moral citizen,’ ‘You’re a man, born from God’s breath and the earth itself, a steward of his creations: you’re to lead, and be an example.’_ He’d heard these things since he was Crish’s age, and whenever he didn’t live up to expectation… Well, he didn’t care for thorny bushes in his landscaping.

He thought he’d found something that helped him break free from all that with Mary. In middle school he’d known her as a bit of a tom-boy, constantly running wild with her best friend, even considered a bully by some. By high school, she and Damien had taken up with the Goth scene. While Damien started developing into his ‘dapper Gentleman Goth’ thing in rebellion to his forced-gender-role, Mary had been the one in spiked collars, chains on skirts that rode the edge of being too short for school, and boots that went up to her thighs. She smoked and drank hard liquor at 15, and she cursed so much, she was getting detention every other week. She had magenta streaks in her hair!

She had been his masturbation fantasy for three years straight. Joseph got up the nerve in senior year to ask her out, and had been in complete shock when she said yes. Whether it was for laughs or not (though he was stronger in opinion on the former now in hindsight), he had been happy about it. For a few years, he got to sneak out at night, be a bad boy in the dark, do all the things their stick-up-their-ass parents hated, and be free! But whereas Mary continued that life in the daytime, for Joseph it ended when the sun rose. He had to sneak back into his parents’ house and be the perfect son again.

Being with Robert had been a little like those times. Nights and days, alone on the yacht with the rough and tumble man, indulging in carnal pleasures he’d never imagined. Letting out his resentment, his rage, his regret in all that he’d had to be and wanted to be but couldn’t be, all while buried balls-deep in a gorgeous beast of a human being. He didn’t have to think about his fights with the ‘domesticated’ Mary, or his growing responsibilities in the church. All he had to do was get a belt around a tan neck while he let out screams he’d been holding back.

Joseph winced at the old memories of unabashed pleasures, and squashed them down again. He adjusted his groin, willing his cock to soften. He’d given it all up. He could have declined the pastor and deacons’ nominations to join them, back when he’d been but an avid attendant and volunteer for church activities and charities, but… he could not abandon Mary once she informed him she was pregnant again. He had wanted to believe she’d been as unfaithful as he, but it coincided with their last ‘marital relation’. He was the father; of oncoming twins, to boot! Chris had been one thing; he was a toddler when all of this happened, and the idea of splitting when his son would be too young to remember things had been an option. But knowing he was going to have more kids… He had to take responsibility. He had to let his moonlit nights in the bay with his rugged lover go. He’d tried to get on with his own life, too. Tried to make things work with Mary. But now they only had sex when they were both drunk enough and horny enough that anything would do (at least, anything worked for him—he never knew what went on in that woman’s head anymore, if he ever did), and they rarely said more than a handful of words. He knew she hated him and their life.

So in place of his sin of lust, he’d substituted greed. Being a youth pastor wasn’t as lucrative as most people thought it might be, and while he had come from a very well off family, some things had to be maintained. That yacht didn’t pay for itself! Nor the roof over his head, or all the damn parties he threw. He tried to rationalize that he was owed the little bit of cash he skimmed from bake sales, trips, and charity services he organized, but this wasn’t just fucking someone while you had a ring on your finger, he was now breaking the law! Deep inside, he knew he had to stop, knew he had to be honest and take care of things properly…

He was scum. The worst sort of hypocritical scum, and he knew it. But he liked what he was doing. He liked the praise and admiration. He liked the cushy lifestyle he lived, even with his drunk wife. More than anything, he liked being seen as the perfect father, by his children as well as his peers.

God, his children… what would happen if everything they believed about their dad was exposed as a lie? What would they think of him? Would they hate him? He couldn’t bear it! His eyes teared at the idea of it! He was already getting bouts of disrespect from Chris, it was natural at his age, but it would hurt if that turned into real resentment. He didn’t want Christian to remember him as a liar and a fake, and have the boy’s eyes turn cold and condemning on him. And Christina… Oh Lord… His Princess worshipped him! When she was allowed to be her sweet, wonderfully adorable self, she turned to him for everything. If she suddenly turned away…

Joseph took a deep breath. He’d dug himself into a deep hole. He’d hurt people. Used people. Abused his position. However, the saying was true: The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. His was incredibly weak. He got up from the sofa, turned off the music, and put away his CD. He walked through his picture perfect house, and paused, looking out a window. He saw that all the windows were dark at the Bloodmarch residence.

It wasn’t his business.

It shouldn’t be his business.

He didn’t care who Robert fucked, when he had so much else to worry about…

But what did Damien know about Robert’s needs? Did Robert think he could get what he wanted from Damien because the man pretended to be Marquis de Sade, clad in black velvet and leather?

What the hell did they see in each other?

**Author's Note:**

> I confess: There are things I like about Joseph, and people forget that his character is meant to be complex, and that for all he does that is very much wrong, he still tries to be a good father at the least. Does that excuse him? No. But, I have plans, and I promise my readers happy endings for our leads... Just, keep an open mind. The next installment will feature more of our favorite boys, I guarentee that.
> 
> Ah, and the 'cult' stuff is NOT canon, by word of the Grumps and developers, thus I will not mention it at all in this series. So cut that from your minds, please.
> 
> Kudos are loved, comments are much appreciated, especially if they are constructive. See you all soon.


End file.
